A Place Between 0 and 1
by clemonlime
Summary: (TW: Mention of suicide/self-harm) Reid was left behind. He watched as Morgan and Hotch caught up to each other at the elevator, talking about how fun the night would be. Morgan looked back at Reid and smiled, and Reid's heart fell through his shoes and headed toward the center of the earth.


Dr. Spencer Reid was finally stuck in the terrible place between 0 and 1. Every step he took between his apartment and his workplace shot hot-copper pain up through his bones, and every hello that fell through his lips was a bombshell he swallowed and let explode inside. He started wearing the same clothes over and over, swapping out a cardigan and a cashmere occasionally to throw his teammates off the scent. It didn't really work, of course, but at some point, the team decided that they'd rather not ask than listen to the ramblings of a doctor about the importance of washing machines. Reid didn't own one, of course, but they would assume what they assumed.

Gideon had depressive episodes, and he was a great man. Who was to say this wasn't that? Although it had lasted roughly a year, it hadn't interfered with anyone or anything. Yet, anyway. Gideon always had his off days. Reid had those too. Just following the steps of a great man. No one had approached him about it. He could run the likelihood of his teammates being indifferent toward his suffering, but he couldn't tell if he'd like it.

Morgan would, surely. He was the big brother Reid never had. Of course, there was more there. It made sense that unrequited love would befall someone on the team, and no one was as vulnerable to Cupid's hobby of only shooting one person in the room. He'd avoided the emotions that came with one-sided loves; found a few replacements and receptacles for his emotion. Those receptacles came in the form of Lila Archer and Maeve Donovan, and neither of them ended up well. Why would he try to invoke a relationship of serious intent if he couldn't even take care of the people that he intended to settle with?

"Hey, Hotch?" Reid half-jogged over to the man, his messenger back knocking against the backs of his knees. His boss turned around and raised an eyebrow. "I know everyone's going out, but I think I might have found a link between the two M.O.s and I was wondering if I could hang back and look into it-"

"Reid," Hotch looked at him with a hint of playfulness in his eyes, "I don't think anyone was expecting you to go to the bar. Text me if anything comes up."

Then Reid was left behind. He watched as Morgan and Hotch caught up to each other at the elevator, talking about how fun the night would be. Morgan looked back at Reid and smiled, and Reid's heart fell through his shoes and headed toward the center of the earth.

He found the link and considered texting Hotch like he was supposed to. But then, he pictured his team in a pulsating room with lights and a happiness and sense of importance that gave them all the high they were looking for. He saw Morgan talking up the prettiest girls in the room, and even as it stung to know that it was an accurate image, he memorized it. More than the rest of his life, he wanted to remember this picture in his mind's eye whenever he felt like he had a chance. He didn't.

In the morning, Reid was still at work, drowning himself in coffee and trying to burn his vocal chords as best he could. The entire team came in with a hangover, except for Morgan. That was an interesting development. The rest of the team was too busy drinking electrolytes and struggling against the bright lights of the bullpen, but Reid could feel the eyes of a fully-functioning profiler on him from across the room.

"What's up with you today, kid?" He murmured as he rolled over in his desk chair to sit next to Reid. "You've got a big dark cloud around you."

"I'm fine," Reid said, keeping his eyes down on his work as he reorganized the files he'd been organizing for 12 hours. "How was last night?"

"Is that what this is about?" Morgan frowned and placed his hand on Reid's shoulder. He jumped. "Pretty boy, you could have gone with us."

"I didn't want to. I don't know what you're talking about," he turned and gave Morgan the eye contact he'd been dreading. He knew it was full of venom, but he couldn't hold it in. He got cranky when he was running on no sleep.

"Kid..." Morgan shook his head and sighed, "One of these days, you have to open your mouth and tell us the truth."

Reid shook his head, mumbling as Morgan walked away. "You wouldn't want it."

The case lasted a day, there was no need to spend the night there. Reid was thankful. He didn't know if he could last another night sleeping with the man that took the air from his lungs every time he looked into his eyes. On the jet, everyone was walking on eggshells around Reid, most likely Morgan asking everyone what was wrong. Reid just buried himself in piles of books, pressing his knuckles hard into his leg under the table.

"What's going on with you, today?" Morgan caught up with him after the flight. Reid just kept his eyes forward. "Stop being like this, kid. It's just me."

"Yeah, just you," Reid murmured, but kept heading toward the entrance of the building. Morgan grabbed his arm and Reid gave an airy shriek, tugging his arm away from the man.

"Reid..." Morgan looked at the arm he'd pulled. He stepped forward and peeled back the long sleeves of his cardigan and felt the heat behind his eyes. "Did you do this to yourself?"

Reid shrugged, looking with some form of pride at the bruises that scattered across his forearms. "Does it matter?"

Morgan sighed, "Pretty boy, how could you do this? What's your purpose to do this to yourself?"

Then Reid got the idea.

All of this pain. The depersonalization of unrequited love. It could be ended so easily. How many weapons did he have in his house? Not only guns, but prescriptions that could be filled to the point of a lethal dose. Of course, Reid knew the different ways to die, and if he wanted his teammates to think it was an accident, he could prescribe Digoxin and Multaq, take a concoction of the two, and induce cardiac arrest. Perfect.

He just needed to have that final push to motivate him.

Reid stepped forward and grabbed Morgan by the shoulders as the last agent closed the door behind them. "This."

He kissed Morgan, knowing exactly what the reaction would be. There were two, possibly three ways that an alpha male would react to an onslaught by another man—he would either go into shock and slowly distance himself, he would push the offending male off and deny the entire thing happened, or he would react violently.

Derek Morgan, and Reid knew this very well, was a very violent man under the surface.

Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and threw him off, a hard punch knocking against the side of his face. Reid felt the pain, but somehow... it didn't matter. He'd finally kissed the man of his dreams, and as far as that was concerned, he could die now.

"Reid, what the hell is wrong with you," Morgan whispered, the shock of hitting his coworker slowly sinking in. "Why did you-"

"Thank you," Reid stood, shaky, and waved to the man in front of him. "Thank you so much. I needed this."

He turned and ran. He ran to the pharmacy and grabbed as many anesthetics as they would give him, he showed them his ID and they trusted that he had a good purpose with them. He ran back to his apartment and locked and barricaded all entrances to his apartment. And, truthfully he hadn't felt more at peace than he did now, as he prepped everything in the middle of his living room.

About ten minutes later, he heard it: "Reid."

It was Morgan, his voice shaking. Reid frowned and looked down to his arm. He'd already injected two syringes worth. It was too late for him to speak, but he could still listen through the muffled water that crowded around his ears.

"Please open the door, kid..." There were tears. That was an unexpected development. In all of his calculative thinking, there was no part of the violent reaction that would have inspired him to come looking. "Please. I'm sorry, I... it was just this instinct, and I didn't expect it. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay," Reid said, his voice like gravel, fading in and out.

"Fuck, pretty boy. What are you doing? Please," the handle to the door rattled frantically, "Please. Please! Don't... don't."

"Did you know..." Reid struggled to get the words out. He could hear Morgan calling the ambulance in the hallway. "…people like me account for more than half of the suicidal population?"

"Reid, quit it with the statistics and let me save you." Morgan pleaded, his nails scratching the door on the other side.

"Too late." His heartbeat was speeding up, his face warm with the blood that was mingling with lethal doses of anesthetic. His forehead was damp with sweat, and it would only be a few moments until he was pulled under.

He heard footsteps come up the stairs. Quick, precise footsteps, lugging something heavy. Like a defibrillator and a gurney. No.

The taste of metal in his mouth gave him hope, but the door was busted open within seconds. Men and women with qualifications jumpstarted his heart as it began to fail. He sighed helplessly as he felt a hand in his, one he'd felt before as it collapsed against his face.

"Wake up, Reid..."

He knew how this would go, from there. He hadn't anticipated this. His chances of dementia rose with every second the anesthetic was in his system, the possibilities of hallucination were growing larger and larger. His lungs would be shot in a matter of hours if they couldn't get him to a hospital, brain damage was imminent. The paramedics knew what they were doing, he could hear their garbled speech. At the most, he'd have hypothermia and some trouble breathing.

Back at work, he'd be subjected to a psychological test to check his mental health. Then, if all went well there, which it would, he'd be shacked up with Garcia for six months to a year. There was no way they'd put a suicidal kid out on the field. That would put everyone in danger.

"W...why," Reid murmured, his hands losing their grip and his mind spinning.

"We're not done with you yet, pretty boy..." Morgan said, brushing Reid's hair from his face and placing a chaste kiss on his forehead. "We need you here."

Reid doubted it, but if it made Morgan happy and he could heal from the nausea he was feeling, it would work.


End file.
